


Run Away With Me

by seaaweedbrain



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: M/M, Social Media AU, Youtuber AU, andrew is a rockstar, band au, fake dating au, haters to lovers, musician au, neil is youtuber musician, the internet seems to think that they're dating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:54:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23826427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seaaweedbrain/pseuds/seaaweedbrain
Summary: You have (2) new notifications[@neiljostenmusic]: hey[@neiljostenmusic]: so apparently we're dating-Neil is a Youtuber trying to get a headstart in his music career.Andrew is a member of Night and Day, America's hottest boy band.The fact that they don't know each other isn't enough to stop the internet from shipping them.OrThe fake-dating youtuber/band au that literally nobody asked for.
Relationships: Allison Reynolds/Renee Walker (All For The Game), Katelyn/Aaron Minyard, Kevin Day/Thea Muldani, Matt Boyd/Danielle "Dan" Wilds, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Nicky Hemmick/Erik Klose
Comments: 241
Kudos: 815





	1. Chapter One: Cyberstalking

****

**Neil Josten** uploaded: _runaways - acoustic_

_Visual description:_

_A boy is sitting with his guitar. He appears to be sitting by a court, the sun setting behind him._

_“Hey, guys,” he says into the camera, slightly out of breath. He looks around briefly and then runs a hand through his auburn hair._

_“Due to popular demand, I'm going to be playing the acoustic version of my new single, ‘runaways’ - which you can pre-order now, by the way.”_

_The boy releases a shaky laugh and snaps a finger gun in the direction of the camera._

“S _hameless self-promotion, as always… anyway, link in the description._ ”

 _The boy strums a few chords on his guitar, and then he begins to sing_.

  
  
  


* * *

**Isla Loves Neil** @neilsangels 

@neiljostenmusic  the acoustic version of runaways got me CRYIN 😭😭😭

 **Becca Rose** @neiljxsten

@neilsangels  “I feel myself start to rip away, call it a storm or a f*cking hurricane” oof that got me **#runawaysalbum**

 **14 days until Gem meets Neil** @hurricaneneil 

if y'all don't think I spent the past hour trying to analyze the entirety of this song then you are sorely mistaken…

the whole thing is basically a metaphor for how neil has trouble committing to relationships?? like he's spoken out before about having mental health problems so I think those factor into his insecurities. “they always seem to run back in the end” is referring to how by the time he realises his mistakes his exes are done… ugh his MIND this hits too close to home

**Stream Runaways** @neilsrunaways 

this shit _slaps_

 **Neil Josten** @neiljostenmusic 

hey guys, if anyone wants to pre-order my album you can get it  **here**

_[ **Andrew**_ ** _Minyard_** _liked this tweet.]_

* * *

“Done yet?” Renee asked, peering over Andrew’s shoulder.

“With what?” Aaron asked from across the room.

Their recording session had gone overtime, and the twins had spent the past couple of hours waiting on Kevin to finish recording his vocals.

 **“** Cyberstalking,” Renee replied. She breezed over toward the drinks table and poured herself a lemonade. Aaron furrowed his brows.

“What?”

“Nothing of your concern,” Andrew said, shutting down the conversation. He jutted his chin out in Renee’s direction. “Get me one.”

“I'm your manager, Andrew,” Renee reminded him. “Not your handmaiden.”

She poured the sparkling liquid into a wine glass and offered it to him. Andrew nodded in acknowledgement, which was more than could usually be expected of him. Most people assumed that Andrew Minyard’s callous demeanor had come from his expeditious rise to fame.

However, anyone who knew him well enough (although it could be argued that no one really did), also knew that Andrew’s vibrant personality could not in any way be attributed to his membership in Night and Day. Even before joining the band, he'd been blessed with the cold and distant personality that his fans (self-dubbed as ‘The Better Minyard Legion’, a name which Andrew detested) had come to adore.

When Kevin Day had asked him to sing backing vocals and play lead guitar for his band, Andrew’s first instinct had been to spit in his face. They had met through Nicky, Andrew and Aaron’s cousin and legal guardian at the time. Nicky worked in graphic design, and had been commissioned by Kevin to create merchandise for his personal brand.

Andrew had been perched upon his window sill, strumming something by Queen on his vintage stratocaster when the two time Grammy nominee had strolled into his bedroom. Andrew hadn't so much as batted an eyelash. He realised now that this was his first mistake.

“That's impressive,” Kevin said, after Andrew had barely spared him a glance. The blonde ignored him, continuing to play faster and harder, letting the music fill the room. Kevin leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms. He nodded along to the beat, mumbling the lyrics beneath his breath. Andrew ended the piece on a high. A line of sweat had built up on his brow, and his hands were flushed with red. By the time the last note had sounded, he was already opening a pack and lighting up by the window. He leaned back and blew a cloud of grey smoke into the air.

“What business, Day.”

Kevin considered his words for a moment, conflicted between continuing with his offer and getting the hell out of there. _If he'd had half a good braincell,_ Andrew thought, _he would've gone with the latter._

“I want you in my band.”

As it turns out, Kevin was dumber than he thought.

“You don't have a band,” Andrew said.

“I'm recruiting one,” Kevin explained. “Music is my life. If I couldn't perform, I don't know what I'd do. But lately, the industry has gotten…,” he paused, fumbling for a good choice of words. “ _Dangerous_ , for solo artists such as myself.”

Andrew shrugged. “Then get a bodyguard.”

“I have a bodyguard. I want a band - and I want you in it.”

“Want, want, want,” Andrew tutted. “It's all about what the big popstar would like, isn’t it? Has it ever occurred to you that I don't _want_ to play for your stupid band? That I don't _want_ your daddy bossing me around an industry I care so little for? Tell me, Day, has anyone ever told you no, before? Because quite frankly, you just aren't getting it.”

Kevin faltered, and for the first time, wondered if anyone _had_ ever denied him what he wanted before. He straightened his back.

“David Wymack is an excellent record producer,” he defended. “He got me where I needed to be, and he'll get you there, too, if you quit wasting your potential.”

Andrew stubbed his cigarette out against the window sill. He was getting quite tired of this.

“Fine,” Kevin conceded. “But just answer this one question. If you don't care about music, then why do you play?”

Andrew stared at him blankly. “When a song plays, I feel nothing. I play because I'm bored. Go find your musician, Kevin. He's not in this house.”

This had been a lie on two fronts.

The first being that music was the _only_ thing that made Andrew feel. It was why he listened, why he played. In a world that felt numb to Andrew Minyard, music was the one thing that stung.

The second was that not only was one of Kevin’s musicians in that house, but two.

Later that night, long after Kevin had returned to wherever it was that stars went when they stopped shining, Andrew found himself turning over the card that Kevin had left behind over in his palms.

“If I join, Aaron comes too,” he said into the phone. “And none of that pop bullshit you're used to. We play real music. Those are my terms.”

Kevin wasn't sure whether to be offended or grateful. “Can he play?”

“Those are my terms.”

The deal was done.

Now, two years, a world tour and a multimillion dollar album later, Andrew was certain that it had been a mistake.

“You ran three hours overtime,” Andrew said.

Kevin bristled. “It wasn't ready. Now it is.”

“Whatever,” Aaron cut in. He was too tired for a fight. “Let's just go home. We have that meeting tomorrow, and I'm about to crash.”

“What meeting?” Andrew asked.

“We still need to pick an opening act for the tour,” Renee explained before Kevin could chastise him. “We’re meeting with some artists and their managers.”

When Andrew had joined the band, he'd known that there would be a lot of meetings and business deals. He just hadn't known how much of those he would actually have to be present for. And apparently, it was a lot.

“I won't be there,” Andrew said as they stepped into the elevator.

Kevin narrowed his eyes. “This is a mandatory meeting.”

“I have other commitments.”

“Andrew-”

“It's fine,” Renee said, ever the peacekeeper. “But if you don't like the artist we choose, there's nothing you can do about it.”

Andrew shrugged. It wasn't like he actually gave a shit.

When they reached ground level, Andrew pulled up his hoodie and put on his sunglasses. He was not in the mood.

“Hey,” Renee said as the others walked out into the lobby. “We still on for tea on Monday?”

Andrew nodded. There had been few good things to come out of this experience, Renee Walker being one of them. She never pressed Andrew for more information than he was willing to give, and for some reason seemed to be able to read Andrew better than anyone else did. He claimed to find it annoying, but it was more comforting than anything else.

“Alright,” she said with a smile. “See you then.”

She clattered through the rotating doorway in her pink heels, hand reaching outward to hail a cab. Night and Day’s success had warranted her enough of a small fortune to be able to have her own driver, if she wanted, but Renee was all about reducing her carbon footprint. Andrew figured the earth hadn't done him any real favours, so he'd stick to the limo waiting outside, thank you very much.

“Andrew,” Aaron called out. “Ride’s here.”

He and Kevin had both tugged on caps and sunglasses in preparation for the paparazzi storm that awaited them outside.

Andrew glanced at his smart watch. _01:10,_ it read. _For fuck’s sake,_ Andrew thought. _Do these people ever sleep?_

“Let's get out of here,” he said.

Jean Moreau, the band’s bodyguard, led them out of the building. Andrew resented the idea of needing a bodyguard - he could protect himself. Subconsciously, he felt for the knives he'd safely stowed away beneath the bands he wore on his arms.

Almost immediately, he was greeted by flash photography and eager reporters yelling their names. Their questions were as intrusive as always.

“Thoughts on Wren Barker leaving the band?”

“Kevin, how's Thea doing?”

“Still single, Aaron?”

“Andrew! Andrew Minyard!” one of them called.

Andrew flipped him off in response.

Jean opened the door to the limo, ushering the band inside. Their driver, Frank, grunted as Kevin lowered himself into the vehicle.

“Us working class people need to sleep, too, you know.”

“Sleep is for the weak willed and unattractive,” Andrew replied.

He was about to shut the door when a certain question sparked his interest.

“Andrew! Can you confirm or deny the rumours about your relationship with Neil Josten?”

_Relationship with Neil Josten?_

“Andrew.”

Kevin looked exasperated, despite the fact that he was the reason they were still out so late.

Andrew slammed the door and closed his eyes.

“Drive,” he said.

Frank rolled his eyes. “Why do you think I'm here?”

As they drove, Andrew couldn't shake the reporter’s question out of his head. He knew that the paparazzi spouted all sorts of crap, but this had to have come from somewhere. He'd never linked himself to Neil Josten in any way. Except for -

He opened up Twitter.

* * *

**Clever News** @CleverNews

Night and Day’s Andrew Minyard and Youtuber Neil Josten have sparked RELATIONSHIP RUMOURS and people are FREAKING OUT… watch our newest  **video** to find out why! How do you feel about these two?

 **andrew baeyard** @nightandkevinday 

@CleverNews despite how absolutely out of control these rumours are, andrew and neil are lowkey a ship

 **nancy stans neil** @runawaygirl77 

i don't get why people are freaking out. all andrew did was like one of neil’s tweets? like that’s hardly confirmation

 **andrew’s ankle** @neilsredhair 

@runawaygirl77  last year sometime neil mentioned that he liked the song ‘get out’ by nad (which andrew wrote) and since andrew liked his tweet, people are making the connection that they obviously know each other. and we all know andrew doesn't have any friends lol (besides renee)

* * *

For as far as Andrew could scroll, more and more tweets were popping up with theories about his and Neil's alleged “relationship”. He couldn’t believe the shitstorm he’d caused just by liking one of the guy’s tweets. And watching his Youtube videos. And listening to his newest single on repeat. And pre-ordering his album.

Fuck.

If people knew the right places to look, they could dig up a whole lot of new information. It would take Renee a while to clear everything up. Except Andrew didn't care at all about his image or his career. So why was this bothering him so much?

 _Oh_ , he thought as a notification popped up on his phone. _That's why._

_**You have (2) new notifications** _ ****

[@neiljostenmusic]: hey

[@neiljostenmusic]: so apparently we're dating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've made it this far... thank you so much for reading! This took a shit-ton of hours to photoshop, write and edit so if you could drop me a kudos I'd really appreciate it. 
> 
> If you want to follow me on tumblr, that'd also be great :D
> 
> I'm over @seaa-weedbrain, come and say hi.


	2. Chapter Two: You Can Put The Knife Down, Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allison is trying to fix things. Neil is an idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey :D
> 
> I really didn't expect all of the positive feedback I got on the last part - your guys' support has been really motivating.
> 
> I initially planned on having this up yesterday, but I wasn't quite happy with how it turned out yet.
> 
> I'm also debating whether or not I should start posting two shorter chapters once a day, or one longer chapter maybe every second day. Thoughts?

  
  


**_INSTAGRAM_** **_LIVE 11/06 NEILJOSTENMUSIC_**

* * *

**LIVE CHAT PLAYBACK**

**neilsandrew**

and that's on being a good manager PERIODT

**sally_walker**

he's so cute i-

**heyitsamy**

allison step on me please

**stayarunaway**

neil hit me w the new contentttt

**aminyard**

shut up

* * *

“You literally joined _my_ livestream,” Neil pointed out. “You can't tell me to shut up.” 

“Maybe he's talking to the fans,” Allison suggested. “Although, that's kind of worse.”

Allison was perched at the end of the bed with her feet tucked beneath her legs and Neil's head on her lap. Neil's iPhone was backed up against one of her pillows, and he leaned forward to read aloud Andrew’s next comment.

“ _I'm talking to Neil._ ’ Great, now that we've got that cleared up, can we actually get to questions about the album?”

The chat flooded with Andrew related questions. Neil glanced at Allison. _What was he supposed to do now?_ The night before, Neil had received an influx of tweets and videos regarding his and Andrew’s alleged relationship. And, because he was Neil Josten, his immediate response had been: _W_ _hat have I done this time?_

And, because he was Neil Josten, Allison's immediate response had been to swing open his bedroom door in just her underwear and ask:

“What have you done this time?”

Neil raised his hands in mock surrender. “I have no idea. You can put the knife down, now.”

Allison furrowed her brows and looked down at her hands. In one, she held her phone. In the other, she held a kitchen knife.

“I was cooking,” she said, jabbing the knife in his direction. “When I received a call. Do you want to know who from?”

“The Department of Food Control?” Neil guessed, nodding toward her unconventional choice of cooking wear.

“Ha ha. No,” she mocked. “I got a call from Renee Walker.”

Allison closed the door behind her, despite it being just them in their shared two-bedroom apartment, and sat down at the edge of Neil’s bed. Her wet hair dripped onto his sheets. She waved her cellphone in her right hand.

“When were you going to tell me about your relationship with _Andrew Minyard_?”

“Probably whenever it came into fruition,” Neil said. He mimed looking at a wristwatch. “So ’round about never.”

“Can you stop being a smartass for one second?” she asked. “This is a PR nightmare!”

Neil shrugged. “What did she say?”

“She just wanted to know whether or not you might have said anything to the press that would give them the impression that you two were an item. I told her you'd done no such thing,” Allison said.

She waited.

“What?” Neil asked.

“We’re at the part where you tell me about the stupid thing that you did.”

Neil racked his brain. He did a lot of stupid things - how was he supposed to know which one of them had resulted in _this_?

* * *

> **Dumb Things That Neil Has Done (In The Past 15 Minutes)**

**_1\. Messaged Andrew Minyard_ **

Here is what Neil knew about Andrew Minyard.

He knew that he was a part of the world's biggest band, Night and Day.

He knew that he had a twin brother called Aaron, who was obnoxiously bleak in interviews.

He even knew that he planned on releasing his own fashion line later on in his career.

( _“My fans all look like fucking hobos,_ ” Andrew had once stated in an interview. _“If they're going to be associating themselves with me, the least they can do is look decent.”_ )

What Neil hadn't known, however, is that Andrew Minyard knew who _he_ was.

Neil was essentially a nobody - an up-and-coming star from Maryland who made videos in his bedroom.

So when Andrew had liked his tweet… well, he was shocked, to say the least.

Then rumours started to sprout, claiming that the two were an item, and everything escalated from there.

 _uhhh so best thing to do would be to ignore the whole sitch_ , Andrew's cousin and Youtube ‘vlogger’ Nicky Hemmick had messaged him, _do not contact him!!_

 _hey buddy,_ his producer Matt texted, _not too sure what's going on but that andrew guy looks like bad news. maybe steer clear of him?_

Yeah, like that was going to happen. 

> **neiljostenmusic:** hey
> 
> **neiljostenmusic:** so apparently we're dating

In all honesty, he'd assumed that Andrew would just ignore him. It was kind of his niche.

Instead, he'd gotten this:

> **aminyard:** i’ll take care of it.

Neil blinked.

> **neiljostenmusic:** take care of it how, exactly?

But then, because he was Andrew Minyard, he'd disappeared.

So essentially, Neil was screwed.

**_2\. Shown His Support for “Andreil” Content_ **

Neil thought that his fans were some of the most talented people in the world.

They drew him incredible fan art, sent him video compilations of his best moments ( _Neil Josten Dragging Everyone For One Hour Straight_ being his personal favourite - Allison liked _Neil Literally Throwing His Career Down The Drain_ the best) and dedicated fan pages to him on Twitter, Tumblr and Instagram where they would post memes and edits of him.

His fans were going crazy anticipating the release of his first album, and decided to show their support through various creative endeavours.

Neil had spent most of the night scrolling through the #NeilJosten tag on Instagram, watching and liking a couple of fan edits.

At the time, he was only slightly confused as to why the fans had started to include Andrew in their edits of him, but thought the editing was cool and so went on liking and commenting on them anyway.

Which was probably a mistake.

**3. _Fought BuzzNews on Twitter_**

_Buzz!_ The gossip site’s twitter post had read. _We HATE #Andreil. Not everything has to be gay! Some people are better off as friends. What do you guys think?_

 _First of all_ , Neil’s reply had read. _Fuck you. Tell me, Rita_ (he'd had to look up the company’s head of social media marketing in order to single her out) _how does it feel to be part of a brand that breeds ignorance and prejudice? A website that feeds off of shame and forces people to hide? All that hair dye and bleach must really be seeping into your brain, so let me make this clear for you. What other people do is none of your business. What other people think is none of your business. Who other people love is none of your business. So please, shut the fuck up and leave all of us alone._

* * *

Allison looked at him expectantly. “Well?”

“You know,” Neil replied. “I can't really think of anything.”

“Whatever,” Allison sighed. “We have a meeting tomorrow to try and fix this mess. Walker had to cancel the band’s other commitments to meet with us, so the least you can do is try to not act like a jackass, okay?”

“I don't understand why we can't just deny the rumours.”

“Shawn and Camila,” Allison began, counting on her fingers. “Zac and Vanessa, Kristen and Rob, Miley and Liam. They all denied relationship claims, and yet here we are. No one's going to buy it.”

“People are comparing us to Zac and Vanessa?”

“That is so not the point,” Allison said, standing up. "But yes, they are."

"Okay, so they won't buy it. Not really my problem."

Allison furrowed her brows, and Neil could sense that there was more to the story. This whole thing was being blown way out of proportion - there had to be a logical way to undo it all. There was something she was hiding from him.

"We'll talk about it later," she mumbled, tucking a stray curl away from her face. "Just don't worry about it, okay?"

"You're doing it again," Neil groaned. "You're mothering me."

Ever since Neil's mother died, Allison had stepped in and been the older sister he'd never had growing up. She was fiercely protective and willing to do whatever it took to make sure that he knew someone was on his side. He figured it was because her parents had pretty much been against her from the start, always wanting her to bend to their will and not once asking her what it was that she wanted to do with her life. They'd treated her like a puppet, and when she refused to follow the path they'd neatly laid out for her, had kicked her out. She'd built AJR Management from the ground up, and Neil would forever be grateful to her for taking him under her wing when he was just a kid. She wasn't much older than him, but she was smarter and stronger, and he needed someone like her on his team. She thought she was protecting him by shielding him from the media's lies, but in reality, she was just making things harder for the both of them.

"You can tell me the truth," Neil told her. "Why are you really making this into such a big deal?"

"I'm not making it into anything," she snapped. "I just don't want anything to ruin your first album release. This is huge, Neil. We've been working towards this for forever. I won't have anything ruining it. I won't."

Allison huffed and crossed her arms. She really did want what was best for him.

"Alright," he said, walking over to her. "But don't get too stressy. I hate when you get mad."

He enveloped her in a hug, and she must've been surprised at the contact, because she hesitated before wrapping her arms around his middle.

"I'm always mad," she laughed breathily. "Just never at you."

“Love you."

"Well, duh," she'd responded. "Love you too."

Now, Allison picked up the cellphone and raised it in front of their faces.

"Okay guys," she said into the phone. "We've been on live for a little over an hour now, and while we did plan on going for longer - Neil actually has a special project we have to go work on. Isn't that right, Neil?"

"Uh, sure," Neil said unconvincingly. "Definitely. Super special."

The chat flooded with questions and assumptions regarding his supposed 'project'. 

"We'll see you all very soon," she said, waving goodbye. Neil followed suit.

"Byeeee."

Allison ended the livestream.

"You didn't have to end it," Neil told her. "We could've dodged the questions."

Allison strutted around her bedroom, already pulling off her sweats and slipping into a pair of heels. Her movements were rushed, and if Neil didn't know any better, he'd think she was actually nervous.

“Pantsuit or dress?” she asked, holding up her two options. The pantsuit was a crisp creme colour, and the dress a royal blue.

“Dress?” Neil guessed.

Allison nodded and threw the dress over her shoulder.

“Pantsuit it is. Renee texted me during the stream. She and the band are coming early - is that what you're wearing?”

So that was why she was so panicked. Allison's management company was relatively knew in the music world, so it was extremely important to her that she always made good impressions and networked well. 

“Yes?” Neil said, looking down at his orange hoodie and jeans.

“I don't know why you insist on wearing that putrid colour,” she muttered distastefully. “Andrew won't like it.”

Neil slumped onto her bed. “Since when do we care what Andrew Minyard thinks?”

“Since you decided to throw everything away and date him,” Allison replied, dropping her hairbrush onto his ankle. She began twisting her hair into a bun.

“ _Ow._ You sound like my mother.”

“May the flames of hell burn her eternal soul,” Allison prayed, crossing herself. 

She turned to Neil. “How do I look?”

“Like a powerful woman?” 

Allison rolled her eyes. “ _Obviously_. I meant like, Blair Waldorf kind of powerful or Elle Woods kind of powerful?”

“Oh, Blair Waldorf. Definitely.”

“I've taught you so well. Remind me later that we're on the fourth to last episode."

Neil heard his phone ping from somewhere on the bed, and threw himself across the mattress to feel for it in the sheets as Allison clattered out into the hallway. When he found it on one of her satin throws, the screen glowed white with a new alert.

**_You have (2) new Twitter notifications._**

> **Andrew Minyard @** **aminyard**
> 
> everyone needs to mind their own fucking business

> **Andrew Minyard** **@aminyard**
> 
> we’ll talk about it when it suits us

Neil frowned.

“Hey, Allison,” he called out, walking through their apartment. He stopped when he got to their living room, not taking his eyes off of his phone.

Something about the posts was unsettling. While Andrew hadn't outright confirmed their relationship, he wasn't exactly denying it, either.

“Neil,” Allison replied sternly. She was using her _let's-make-a-deal_ voice.

Neil looked up from his phone, and was greeted by the sight of four strangers sitting on his sofa.

“Hey,” Neil said uncertainly. “Is someone going to tell me what's going on?”

“Apparently,” Andrew Minyard said nonchalantly, “we're dating.”


	3. Chapter Three - What Is This, Prom Night?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment you've all been waiting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that it's been a couple days since the last update. I honestly wasn't all too pleased with how last chapter turned out, but your support is what motivated me to keep on going and produce something I'm actually proud of (yes, we're still talking about fanfiction...) 
> 
> Anyway, here's chapter three! Finally.

Andrew was in Neil Josten’s apartment.

It was decent enough - white walls, glass tables, black furniture. Judging by Neil’s inability to commit to an aesthetic, he assumed that it had been his manager Allison that had decorated the place.

 _Neil Josten_.

The name burned at the edge of his tongue. He watched as the auburn haired boy scrolled through his cell phone, furrowing his brows at various article titles. His tongue slipped between his lips slightly, and his blue eyes were squinted curiously at the screen. Admittedly, he was attractive - although the vibrant orange of his sweatshirt was enough to nauseate.

Ever since Neil’s first original song ‘Runaways’ had worked its way into Andrew’s playlist, he had spent the better part of the year observing the singer. He'd found it interesting how seamlessly Neil had slipped from an unknown musician to an up-and-comer in the industry without letting it affect him at all. He still managed to upload new content somewhat consistently onto his Youtube channel whilst writing and producing his first album. Andrew didn't know whether that meant he was ambitious or just lacking direction.

Still, sitting next to him was unnerving.

Everything about Neil was so… _alive_. From the intermittent tapping of Neil’s fingers against the sides of his phone to the slight wiggle of his jaw, every part of his body moved with purpose. It was like sitting next to a ticking bomb.

 _Neil Josten_.

It sounded like a dream. It tasted like damnation.

“As you can see,” Renee said, gesturing toward Neil’s cellphone, “this has gotten a bit out of hand.”

“Yeah,” Neil replied. He tapped his fingers against the side of his phone in agitation. “You could say that. So what do we do?”

Allison and Renee shared a significant look. Renee glanced at Kevin, who was eyeing Neil with keen interest. Aaron looked like he couldn't care less, but there was obvious tension in the air.

“What?” Neil asked, straightening his back.

Allison broke the silence.

“We - Renee and I - have decided that a closed relationship arrangement would be beneficial for both parties.”

The blonde eyed Neil warily, waiting for his response. Neil furrowed his brows.

“They want us to date,” Andrew said apathetically.

“Fake-date,” Allison corrected. “Just for a little while, until the end of their world tour next April.”

_Next April?_

Neil’s eyes met Andrew’s, his blue stare hard and unwavering. Andrew stared right back.

“No,” Neil said. “No way in hell.”

“Neil-” Allison started.

“Listen to me,” Kevin interrupted, placing a hand on Neil’s arm. Neil’s body immediately tensed, and it was painstakingly obvious how nervous the global superstar made him feel.

“This is a great opportunity for you, Neil. You're just starting out in the industry. Think of all the publicity this will bring - the attention our music will get. Be smart about this.”

“I'm not going to lie to my fans for attention,” Neil spat, shrugging Kevin’s hand off of his arm. “And isn't this, like, queerbaiting or something?”

Andrew shrugged. “I'm queer, not baiting anyone about that.”

“And you're okay with this?” Neil asked, bewildered.

“Don't be an idiot.” Andrew’s tone was bored, disinterested.

Neil looked like he was about to say something else when Kevin cut him off.

“What if we let you open for us on our tour?”

This was enough to render Neil momentarily speechless.

Aaron scoffed. “We're not letting a nobody perform opening act.”

Kevin sent him a glare in warning.

“What? He's practically unheard of!”

“Neil's been topping the charts for four weeks consecutively, now,” Allison defended. “Where has Night and Day been on the Top 100 this past month? 30th? 25th? I don't recall your latest song even hitting the Top 20.”

Andrew watched as a smirk formed on Neil's lips. In his interviews, the singer was anything but modest about his achievements. He had always been the underdog, and now he was about to surpass them all.

“You'd only need to keep up appearances on social media,” Renee told Neil. “And accompany Andrew to events. Everything will be kept strictly professional.”

“Yes,” Neil replied snarkily. “I wouldn't want to overstep any boundaries in our _fake relationship._ ”

Andrew was beginning to tire of all this back and forth.

“Get over yourself,” Andrew deadpanned. “You're doing this, or I'm telling my twenty-five million followers that you tried to use me for fame. The band will gain publicity either way.”

He turned to Renee. “Can we go now?”

“Did you just try to blackmail my client?” Allison asked, shock registering in her tone.

“I'll do it,” Neil conceded. 

“Neil, you don't have to.”

“I just said I'll do it. What other choice do I have?”

The singer crossed his arms over his chest and slumped backward into the sofa. His lower lip pouted slightly, his eyes screamed murder. Andrew thought it remarkable how an eighteen year old could look like such a child.

Renee pulled out a slender file from her handbag and placed it on the coffee table.

“We've written up a contractual agreement,” she said gently. “It's got some terms that you'll have to agree to in order for everything to go amicably.”

Allison passed Neil a pen, trying to catch his eye. He continued to ignore her and began paging through the stack of paper.

“Aren't you going to get an attorney to look over that for you?” Kevin asked.

Aaron snorted. “It's not like they can afford one.”

“I have eyes,” Neil replied through gritted teeth.

Allison moved to stand behind him, peering at the contract over his shoulder. She frowned.

Allison snatched the file from Neil’s grasp and began paging through it, looking up every so often in disbelief.

Neil frowned. “What does it say?”

“This is literally just one hundred pages telling us that if you lay a finger on Andrew, you're going to be sued for everything you've got.”

“Andrew isn't fond of physical contact,” Renee explained.

Allison pinched the bridge of her nose. It was clear that the day wasn't going as she had planned.

“No one's going to believe that they're a couple if they're standing a metre apart with a pole between them.”

“Then it's a good thing we've got our second option,” Aaron threatened.

“You can take your 200 followers and piss off to where you're actually wanted,” Neil snapped. “Although I'm having trouble believing that a place like that exists.”

He looked to Andrew. “What if I asked?”

Andrew glared at him. “What?”

“Before I touch you, I'll ask you if you're okay with it. If you're not then I'll back off.”

Andrew uncrossed his arms and braced his elbows on his knees, leaning forward. Realistically, he knew that this plan would never work. Eventually Neil would tire of asking and do something that earned him a black eye. Still, Neil had piqued his interest. 

“You won't ask every time,” Andrew said. It sounded more like a fact than an opinion.

“Of course he won't!” Allison exclaimed, at the same time that Neil said “I will.”

“I'll be contractually obligated to ask every time. If I don't, you can sue me for however much you want.”

“Neil,” Allison chided. “That's ridiculous.”

“What do you think?” Neil asked Andrew, ignoring the looks of frustration his manager was sending him.

Andrew knew he should say no.

He would be better off declining the ridiculous offer and just going home to his cat and bed. But something in Neil’s eyes was earnest, promising. Andrew thought that those eyes could ruin him if he let them.

“Fine,” he said. “Renee will have our lawyer alter the contract.”

He could feel his manager’s eyes on him. She was probably trying to work out what the hell Andrew was thinking. Andrew was trying to figure out the same thing.

“I'll have it emailed to you by lunch,” Renee said, sounding slightly unsure of herself. Andrew had thrown her off. “The band has a red carpet event tonight - one of their songs has been used in the soundtrack for the new Sun Wars movie. Can you make the premiere? It'll be your debut as a couple.”

Neil visibly cringed at the word ‘couple’.

Andrew bristled sharply at the response.

“He’ll make himself available,” Andrew said, standing up. “Let's go.”

Renee and Kevin shook Neil’s hand as they passed, Aaron barely sparing a glance in his direction. On his way out, Andrew paused next to Neil. He hooked his fingers into the collar of Neil’s sweatshirt and brought his mouth close to his ear.

“That really is a terrible colour,” Andrew muttered, giving himself an excuse to give the boy a once-over.

Neil smirked. “Get used to it.”

Andrew walked out the door.

* * *

> **You**
> 
> package arriving in 10. car @ 7. don't be late

> **Josten**
> 
> how did u even get this number

> **You**
> 
> i’m rich

> **Josten**
> 
> that explains a lot

> **You**
> 
> don't be late

Andrew scrolled through the afternoon’s texts as he waited in the back of the limousine. Frank was seated at the driver’s seat, rattling his fingertips aggressively on the dash.

“Your boyfriend always take this long?”

“They're taking pictures,” Andrew said, annoyance dripping from his tone.

Frank lowered his window and peered outside. “What is this, prom night?”

“Eh!” he yelled out the window. “We don't have all day.”

Andrew heard a female voice shout “sorry!” and then footsteps scuffling towards the car. Outside, Jean muttered something appropriately offensive in French and opened the door. Neil slid into the vehicle.

 _Oh_ , Andrew thought.

“I see you got the package.”

From the pictures he posted online, it was obvious that Neil’s usual garb consisted of nothing more than hoodies, sneakers and blindingly hideous orange sweaters that did his figure no favours. As he had predicted, the deep blue of the velvet suit Andrew had chosen brought out the darker tones in Neil’s icy eyes and somewhat complimented his auburn hair.

“I have my own suits, you know,” Neil said as he straightened his tie.

Andrew wondered if he'd imagined the faint outline of Neil’s abs against the material of his shirt.

He neutralised his expression. “I didn't ask.”

“Neil, is it?” Frank’s voice roared. The screen that separated the driver’s seat from the rest of the car lowered, revealing a bearded man in his mid forties.

“Yes?”

“I'm Frank,” Frank greeted. “I’m the band’s driver. ‘Chauffeur’ is the word them pretentious folk like to use, but whichever way you put it, I'm still underpaid.”

Frank turned in his seat and held out his hand for Neil to shake. Andrew’s fingers were hard and cold against the bone of Neil's wrist. Neil tried to yank his hand out of Andrew’s grip, but the musician only tightened his hold.

“You're not to touch him,” Andrew told Frank.

When Neil opened his mouth to argue, Frank sighed and waved him off. He pressed a button on the dash that brought the screen down between them. Andrew released his grip on Neil’s wrist.

“Some would say that you take the ‘overprotective boyfriend’ trope too far," Neil said.

“I'm not your boyfriend.”

“Oh, really? Then what is this?”

“There is no ‘this’. This is nothing.”

Neil ran his thumb across his lower lip and rubbed his eyes. Andrew turned toward the tinted window and began mentally listing the different ways in which he could murder Neil Josten with what was available in the car. It was an oddly comforting thought.

Andrew could feel Neil’s gaze burning a hole into his cheek.

“Staring,” Andrew scolded.

“I can't believe I got myself into this.”

“You have no one to blame but yourself, Josten.”

“Oh yeah? Because, if I recall correctly, you were the one who started this mess. You should have been the one to clean it up.”

“You're treading a fine line. One misstep and I might stab you.”

“And that,” Neil commented. “What is with you threatening me all the time? Did I personally offend you or something?”

“Your very existence offends me.”

Neil banged his head against the headrest. 

Andrew peered through the tinted windows at the thousands of fans lined up outside the venue. He aggressively cuffed the nape of Neil’s neck and brought his mouth close to the boy's ear.

“Look alive, Josten,” he said. “Because if you don't, I might have to kill you.”

The door to the limo slid open. Jean strategically placed himself in front of the opening and jerked his head toward the screaming fans.

“You ready?” he asked them both.

“Get the fuck out of my way,” Andrew replied, moving to exit the vehicle.

Neil stuck his arm out a hair’s breadth from Andrew’s chest. Andrew glared at him.

“Yes or no?” Neil asked, nodding his head toward Andrew’s clenched fist.

“What.”

Neil inched his hand closer to Andrew’s.

“Is this okay?”

Andrew scrutinised Neil’s features for a sign of mockery. Not even a moment ago they'd been at each other’s throats, and now Neil was respecting his boundaries and asking how he felt. It was antagonising.

Andrew supposed that people would do anything with the threat of a lawsuit hanging over their heads.

“Yes,” Andrew muttered, grabbing Neil’s hand firmly in his own. Unlike Andrew’s, Neil’s palms were soft and unscathed by long nights spent rehearsing on the guitar.

Jean moved out of the way so that the two could get out of the limousine.

The fans went wild.

“Oh my _god_!” Andrew heard one fan shriek.

“I'M LOSING MY SHIT!”

“Is this real? Are they together?”

“That's **_Neil Josten_** ,” another fan screamed. “The rumours are true - they're dating!”


	4. Chapter Four - #KathyFerdinandIsOverParty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's been two months. lmao sorry about that (but seriously, if you're still reading this... thank you)
> 
> anyway, andrew and neil cause shit again, because that's what they do best

In a matter of days, Neil Josten’s life had been turned upside down.

Magazines that had previously turned him down were now begging to get an exclusive interview with him. Allison’s phone was buzzing with calls from the press, and the paparazzi’s eye had become a lot keener. 

“Isn’t this so exciting?” Allison gushed.

“Yeah,” Neil managed.

His makeup artist swabbed him in concealer, muttering something about a ‘better skincare routine’. He was backstage at the Kathy Ferdinand show, swaddled by the presence of his newly acquainted team.

“Oh my god,” his personal assistant, Alvarez, gabbered into her phone. She paced back and forth across the room, probably talking to her girlfriend. “Yeah, I’m with him right now. I know. I know!” She stopped in her tracks and spun around to face Neil, covering her phone speaker with one hand.

“Dude,” she said. “It’s Laila. She wants to know if you actually called Kanye West a sell-out.”

Neil took a beat to think about it. 

“Probably,” he guessed.

Satisfied with this answer, she grinned and started babbling again.

“Babe, he’s insane!” He heard Alvarez say as she walked away. “I _love_ him.”

Allison rolled her eyes as she straightened his tie. 

“You know you could literally get anyone else to work for you, right?”

He shrugged. “I like Alvarez.”

“I can see why,” Allison drawled as Alvarez rushed over to the kid stars of Netflix's hottest sci-fi show. 

"One selfie," he could hear her begging. "Just one!"

“Enough chatter,” Kathy’s executive producer, Sandy, chided. “You have to be on in two. You ready?”

Neil glanced at one of the flatscreens displaying Andrew’s live interview. His dry answers and disengaged expression almost made it look like he was _trying_ to ruin the show. He probably was. You could never be sure with Andrew.

“God,” Sandy muttered, following his line of sight. “Let’s just hope you’re better than that kid.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Renee quipped, sidling up next to them.

Allison subconsciously straightened and began smoothing out her skirt. 

“We’ve talked about this,” she said calmly. "Neil knows to behave, right?”

“Right,” Neil affirmed. Allison didn’t look convinced.

“Alright,” Sandy said into her ear piece. She motioned to the door marked STAGE ENTRANCE. “You’re on in three… two…”

Neil didn’t get to hear her reach one, because he was suddenly ushered through the door and onto the stage by security. The studio lights momentarily blinded him as something by Justin Bieber droned from the speakers. The audience cheered and whooped at his arrival, and he knew he should probably be dancing, or something, because hadn’t Allison mentioned something about that before? All of his training went out the window as he zeroed in on the sofa where Andrew sat.

“Neil!” Kathy beamed as she took Neil’s hand in her own.

He plastered a smile onto his face.

“Hey, Kathy. Thanks for having me.”

“Oh, the pleasure’s all mine!” She said suggestively, eyeing the audience. The LAUGHTER sign glowed green, and the audience erupted into hoots and cheers.

Neil smiled handsomely at the crowd, unsure of what to say next. Andrew’s eyes twinkled in amusement. He was wearing a black turtleneck and jeans, and his golden hair tumbled across his forehead in loose curls.

“Fuck off,” Neil said below his breath.

Kathy signalled for the audience to quieten down. “What was that, Neil?”

“I’m glad to be here,” he lied.

Kathy turned to Andrew, who was eyeing Neil’s suit with an unreadable expression. Neil straightened his tie, suddenly feeling very self conscious. He made a mental note to ask Allison about the designer later.

“Aren’t you just _so glad_ that we got Neil on the show, Andrew?” Kathy asked, her voice sickly sweet.

To the audience, it looked like Neil’s appearance on the talk show had been a surprise to Andrew. In reality, they'd been prepping for this interview together for a week.

“It’s not like I see him every day, or anything,” Andrew muttered. There was a moment of silence before Kathy erupted into awkward laughter.

“Neil,” she continued, presumably deciding that he was the approachable one of the two. “Do tell us about your new album. We’ve been _dying_ to have you on our show ever since you announced its release.”

This was bullshit, obviously, because Allison had been trying to book him for Kathy Ferdinands for months. He wanted to call her out for it, he really did, but he wasn’t a multi billionaire like Andrew or Kevin. He couldn’t afford screw-ups. 

“Uh, well, it’s called Runaways, and it's my debut album.” 

The audience ran in sync with the green APPLAUSE sign, and Kathy motioned for him to continue.

“Thanks,” he murmured. “It was a lot of fun to put together. We - my producer Matt Boyd, who is just _extremely talented_ , and I - wanted to create something that people could relate to. It’s an album about first love and heartbreak, and how that ties in with mental illness and loss.”

Kathy nodded, her features softening. 

“That must’ve been difficult for you to write about, considering your history.”

Neil’s stomach dropped.

“My… history?”

Kathy nodded sympathetically, pouting at the audience. “With your mother and father. Could you tell us a little more about that?”

Neil’s breath hitched. Who had told her about his history? Allison had assured him that his past would be left alone, that no one would bring up his parents again. This was wrong. This was all so wrong.

“You know, Kathy,” Andrew interjected, his voice bored and untelling. “While I’m sure Neil would love to hear about your intricate and endless daddy issues, we should save that talk for another day. Your viewership is declining as we speak, and I would just love to get out of this room as much as your audience would, so it would be wonderful if you could wrap this up.”

Kathy gaped, at a loss for words. The audience had gone silent, despite the various signs telling them to laugh like Andrew had just made the funniest joke. Kathy turned to one of her executive producers, who hurriedly mouthed: “Cut to commercial! Cut to commercial!”

“Oh, screw this!” she huffed, storming offstage. “He’s right! I quit!"

The whole thing was a disaster. The sound guys desperately tried to drown out Kathy's use of expletives and the audience's confusion by playing some song by Usher at maximum volume.

" _So we back in the club, with our bodies rockin' from side to side..._ "

"You'd think they'd play something by Night and Day," Andrew commented, sipping the complimentary guest coffee.

" _I think I remember those eyes, eyes, eyes…"_

"ANDREW JOSEPH MINYARD!" A voice shrieked from across the stage. Andrew didn't spare Allison a glance as she stormed toward them, Renee and Alvarez following suit.

" _'C_ _ause baby tonight, the DJ got us falling in love again… love again…"_

"Huh," Alvarez said, cocking her head to the side. "I think I lost my virginity to this song."

"What made you think that any of what you just said was okay?" Allison snapped, ignoring whatever the fuck Alvarez just said.

"Allison, relax. He was just defending me," Neil argued.

"What he should've done was change the subject! This was your talk show debut, Neil. No one's going to be forgetting this any time soon. The industry is small. People talk."

"I wouldn't worry too much, Allison," Renee said gently. "The media's on Neil's side."

"The media - what? People have seen this?" 

Renee showed Allison her Twitter page, and surely enough, there were already hundreds of tweets about the show from the past few minutes.

"#KathyFerdinandIsOverParty is trending in the US. I hope you're happy with yourself."

"Elated," Andrew deadpanned. 

"We are so not done with this discussion," Allison said. "But I have to go to damage control with the producers. Frank's out front, and you'd best believe the paps are on their way too."

"I'll join you," Renee said, putting a hand on Allison's shoulder. Neil noticed the way she tensed at the contact. "The band was supposed to perform live here next week. I'm not sure that's still the case."

"Alvarez," Allison snapped on her way out. "Get me a coffee. Something too hot and dark to be considered potable."

"Last I checked, I was Neil's assistant, not yours," Alvarez shot back.

"Fine. Neil, tell Alvarez to get me a coffee."

"Please?" Neil asked, eyeing his assistant apologetically.

"Whatever," she conceded, defeatedly trailing out of the room.

Getting the paparazzi off their backs was hard enough, but Jean made sure to guard them the best he could as they shoved their way out of the studio. He grumbled something about deserving a "damn pay raise" as he ushered them into the car. 

"Neil!" One of the reporters yelled. "Is it true that your father tried to kill your mother?"

"Josten! Josten! What are your thoughts on the abuse allegations?"

"Hey Neil, can you confirm the reports that your father is Nathan Wesninski, a convicted felon?"

Neil staggered into the limo, his heart racing a mile a minute. This was impossible. None of this was supposed to happen. One of Kathy's journalists had gotten the inside scoop on the horror story that was Neil's life, and now it would follow him forever. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't-

"Josten," Andrew said, once they were safely inside the car. "Calm the fuck down."

"I can't, I-"

Andrew's grip was firm on the back of his neck, and his hot breath tickled Neil's ear. 

"There are about a hundred reporters who would kill to get 'rising superstar' Neil Josten having a panic attack on camera. Do you know how much a photo like that is worth, Josten? Do you? Hundreds of dollars await the man that can capture you at your worst. This little episode will span across every news tabloid in America, and your career will be down the drain in seconds. So. Calm. The. Fuck. Down."

Once Andrew deemed Neil's breathing to be at an acceptable pace, he released his grip. He rapped his knuckles against the screen separating them from the driver's seat.

"What now?" Frank grumbled, eyeing them through the rearview mirror.

"Turn left," Andrew ordered.

"I thought I was dropping Neil at home."

"Change of plans," Andrew said, leaning back into his seat. "We're taking a detour."

  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter Five - Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: brief mention of drake

Eden’s Twilight was a two-story nightclub a few blocks from the main road.

Tucked away in an unpopular part of the city, the club was where many A-list celebrities could spend their nights as vivaciously as they so pleased without the watchful eye of the general public staring down at them. It had become somewhat of a safe haven for Andrew, a place where he could claim to forget the struggles of his meteoric claim to fame. He watched with practiced disinterest as Neil eyed the long line of try-hard millennials hoping for entrance. Many of the people in line wore leather and cheap corsets, their outfits bound together by various buckles and chains. A couple chain-smoked on the corner, and one of the women licked her lips seductively at Neil as they walked past. 

“Not your usual shindig?” Andrew mocked. He nodded once at the bouncers before bypassing the line completely, Neil following suit behind him. 

“I don’t club,” Neil said with a shrug. Andrew couldn’t care less about whether Neil spent his Friday nights gallivanting with strangers or curled up at home by the fire. He just needed to get him loose enough to spill a few secrets. With some luck, Neil might even divulge the whole story - but good fortune was a rare occurrence for the Minyard household, and Andrew wasn’t willing to take his bets. 

The air was hot and sticky inside of the club, and Andrew watched cautiously as the young partygoers thrashed mercilessly against one another to something that was all beat and no melody. Andrew cursed himself for having crawled so far up Kevin’s ass that he even cared about this stuff at all. He led Neil to a small table near the bar where his cousin and band members conversed loudly over the music.

“Andrew!” Nicky yelled. “Oh my god! Is that _Neil Josten_?”

Neil shrunk back uncomfortably as Nicky’s arms wrapped around him in a grand embrace. Upon noticing his discomfort, Andrew sunk his nails deep into Nicky’s bare arm. Nicky pulled away quickly, frowning at the light crescent moons on his forearm.

“ _Ow,_ ” he winced. “I was just excited, that’s all. What’s Neil doing here?”

Andrew casually inspected the dark polish that coated his nails. “Testing.”

Nicky nodded, like this was the confirmation he needed, but Neil frowned at the answer. Like Neil, Nicky Hemmick was a popular Youtuber and social media influencer. To Andrew’s knowledge, the two shared an inner circle of Youtuber friends but hadn’t seen each other outside of organised events. 

“Wait!” Nicky said, perking up. “You can be in my vlog!”

Neil looked like he was about to protest, but before he could say anything, a large Canon G7 was shoved in his face. 

“We need to talk about that stunt you pulled earlier,” Kevin started. “Do you realise how irresponsible-”

“Not in front of the camera, Kevin!” Nicky said enthusiastically, a broad grin stretched into his features. “Hey designer darlings! It’s your boy Nicky here with a brand new video! And you’ll never believe who’s here-” 

Nicky turned around and panned the camera over their table. Aaron pulled a face and twisted his head so that he was out of shot. 

“We’ve got the whole gang together! We’ve got Kevin, Aaron, Andrew and…”

He zoomed in on Neil’s face. Neil gave the camera a small smile and a two-finger salute. He looked flushed beneath the bright strobe lights, the first few buttons of his shirt undone and his suit jacket slung casually over one shoulder. Andrew resisted the urge to brush away the auburn bang that had fallen over Neil’s eye. 

“Kathy Ferdinand’s career-” began Kevin.

“We are par-tay-ing up in this club tonight!” Nicky continued, pumping his fist for good measure. “Let’s get a round for the guys. Neil, what’ll you be having?”

“I don’t drink,” Neil replied.

“He’ll have a soda,” Andrew said sharply. Understanding flashed in Nicky’s eyes before he left for the bar, babbling at the camera as he walked.

Andrew watched as Neil scratched the side of his head, eyeing Andrew’s band members carefully. It seemed that Neil’s intimidation still hadn’t worn off, and that Kevin’s presence still unnerved the boy greatly. Interesting. 

A man in a gauzy netted dress bumped into Andrew, his side brushing against Andrew’s back. Kevin moved to stop him from lashing out, but Andrew froze at the contact. Momentarily, he was in his old bedroom.

_“Come here,” his foster brother said, leaning into Andrew’s back. “This won’t hurt a bit.”_

“Andrew?” Neil’s voice asked. Andrew blinked, and he was back at the shitty LA nightclub. Neil furrowed his brows, frowning as his teeth grazed his lower lip.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently.

Andrew scowled. “Shut up.”

Neil nodded, sensing that Andrew wasn’t interested in the mood for a heart-to-heart about his feelings, and turned away. Andrew watched as Neil’s blue eyes took in the vibrancy of the club, his fingertips drumming nervously against the table.

“Alrighty everybody!” Nicky grinned, sidling up to the group. He placed down the tray of drinks and dropped Neil’s bottle of soda in front of him. Neil wrapped his fingers around the neck of the glass bottle and unscrewed the lid. When it was just inches from his lips, Andrew said: “Don’t drink that.”

He wasn’t sure why he did it. Perhaps it was because of his momentary mental instability. Neil arched a singular perfect brow before placing the bottle of spiked soda back onto the table.

“That’s mine,” Andrew glowered. He downed the soda, and then his own drink, and made for the dance floor.

“But you said-” Nicky’s voice was drowned out by the heavy beat of Andrew’s own song. Monster blasted from the speakers, and the crowd erupted into a series of whoops and screams. Andrew made his way through the crowd, biting down on his tongue as he narrowly avoided the loose limbs of infelicitously dressed dancers.

“ _Because I am the monster, don’t you forget. Crawling out shadows under your bed…”_

Andrew became submerged in the music. He felt the lyrics crawl up his throat, tangling themselves in between his teeth and coming out in strangled gasps. The cracker dust was hitting him, as was the burning liquid he’d just downed, and he felt the world swirl beneath his feet. 

“ _I’m the monster. I’m the monster, baby.”_

Someone pushed their way through the crowd, sweaty and glowing beneath the lights. Andrew’s eyes caught on the halo of fiery red hair that framed the person’s head. _An angel,_ he thought. _An angel, or if not, an earthly paragon._

“I can’t be saved,” he told the angel.

The angel frowned, tilting their head slightly. “I’m not trying to save you.”  
Andrew threw his head back and cackled deviously. “Oh, but they all are.”

“Andrew,” the angel said, calling him by name. “Let’s get out of here.”

“ _Who would entrust the heart of an angel, beating and bloody, guts on the table-”_

Andrew could feel the walls closing in. The breaths of the bodies next to him. They were too close. Everyone was too close. He staggered away from the crowd and pushed open the door at the back.

“ _With a demon like me, burning and brutal. I wanted to love you, you said I was evil._ "

Andrew wanted to scream. His own words chanted back at him from the speakers, mocking, teasing. A snippet of a former memory. A teaser of what was yet to come. 

He clambered up the stairs until he reached the top door. He slammed it open, a fresh gust of night wind blowing against his skin. 

"Don't linger," Andrew muttered when he reached the roof's edge. He didn't need to turn to know that it was Neil's footsteps coming toward him. Andrew looked at the boy. Neil's face shone with an iridescent milky sheen, his skin bathed in moonlight. He almost looked like a trick of the light. Andrew wondered how potent a drug must be to concoct such an illusion.

"It was spiked," Neil said. "My drink. Nicky told me."

"Twenty golden stars," Andrew rasped. His throat burned when he talked - perhaps he had been screaming earlier. "To the best student in class."

He mimed raising a glass.

"You were trying to get information out of me, right? About my mom?"

Andrew pressed his back on top of the railing and hung his head off the edge. He looked upward at the twinkling stars engulfed in the night sky. 

"Why didn't you just let me drink it?" Neil pressed. 

Andrew balanced his elbows on the railing and tilted his head so that he was facing Neil.

"That is something I am wondering myself," he answered. Neil ran a hand through his hair and released a shaky breath. He did not look too pleased at the prospect of being drugged.

"Okay," Neil murmured. "I'll tell you about my mom. But only if you answer one of my questions. A truth for a truth."

When Andrew didn't protest, Neil continued.

"My father's name is Nathan Wesninski. He was... a pretty shitty guy. He was physically abusive, for one, and a crime boss for another."

Andrew levelled his stare. While nothing really surprised him these days, there was always something to be said about the layers that seemed to surround Neil Josten like armor. Once Andrew thought he was threw with them, Neil kept burying himself deeper, leaving more to be discovered about the young singer. Figuring Neil out was starting to feel like a game, and everyone knew just how much Andrew loved to play.

"My mother and I tried running from him several times," Neil went on. "But somehow he'd always find us and send someone to collect his lost possessions. It was a cycle. Sometimes he'd get his criminal friends to make things harder for us. Other times he would threaten my mother's family. We were always at his mercy. Somehow, he always managed to get us running back to him."

"Runaways," Andrew mocked, the lyrics of the critically acclaimed best pop song flooding into the forefront of his mind. "So, how did you escape?"

Neil bristled. "He went to jail. He'd told his thugs to keep an eye on us, but my mother managed to pay them off. We lived together in Baltimore for a while. That's when I started doing the whole music thing. My mom hated it, of course. She was against putting myself on the internet for everyone to see. But then I met Allison, and things just started taking off from there… music was my only escape. I had to pursue it."

He paused for a moment, his eyes glossing over. "The day I got a record deal with Boyd Music, I came home to find a bullet in my mother's skull. I moved to LA with Allison shortly after that."

"I probably should've given it up, considering everything, but it's not like I had anywhere else to go. And it's easier being in the public eye, I guess. More people notice if something goes wrong. More people _care_. And also… I'm just tired. I don't want to run anymore."

Andrew raised a brow. "And of Nathan?"

"He sends these... gifts," Neil said, for lack of a better word. "I don't know how they get past security. It's why I don't accept packages or fan mail anymore."

Neil stopped then, the memory causing him to lapse into silence. He stared blankly at the cement below them.

"I'll protect you." The words left Andrew's mouth before he decided to say them. "I have a deal with Kevin. I offer him my protection, and in exchange he offers me something else. I can make you the same promise."

"Protection?" Neil asked, presumably thinking this was some sort of joke. 

"Why do you think he's never out of my sight?" Andrew asked. 

_Save for now_ , went unsaid. _Because I'm up here with you._

"What does Kevin offer you? And what exactly does he need protection from?" Neil asked, and when Andrew didn't answer, "What can _I_ offer you?"

Andrew stood up. "I need you to ensure that he upholds his end of the bargain. He's been distant, and I refuse to deal with the fallout."

Neil frowned. "How will I do that, exactly?"

"Keep him in the band. Distract him for a while, let him mentor you."

Neil scoffed. "I don't need a mentor."

"I didn't say that you did."

"You still didn't answer my question," Neil said. "Truth for a truth."

Andrew looked at Neil with a levelled gaze, challenging him.

"That song," Neil began. "Monster. Who is it about?"

Andrew chuckled darkly. "That's your big question?"

Neil shrugged. 

"Aaron's mother," Andrew said, gauging Neil's reaction. "Apparently the burden of my birth was too much for her to bear."

Neil nodded, but Andrew could tell that he sensed there was more to the story. He expected Neil to bombard him with more questions, but the singer just looked resigned when he peered up at the stars.

"It's a deal," Neil said softly. "You have my word."  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! chapters will now be uploaded weekly every sunday.


	6. Mini Chapter - Andreil Q&A

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone for sending in questions!! since i updated earlier this week, i decided to do a fun mini chapter today :)

> **Neil Josten** uploaded: _q &a with andrew _

_Visual and Audio Description:_

_There is a boy sitting on a white sofa._

_He appears disinterested, a bored expression on his face. He holds his chin in one hand, and the other hand dangles in the space between his legs. His blonde hair is tousled and he is wearing a black jacket and white jeans._

_Off camera, a deep voice is heard mumbling incoherently._

_“Have you seen my phone?” the voice asks, and the jingling and movement of objects is audible in the background. The blonde boy shrugs._

_“Got it,” the voice says. An auburn haired boy comes into the frame and sits down next to the blonde. He runs a hand through his hair and then looks at the blonde. The blonde raises his eyebrows in question. The video cuts._

_“Hey guys, it’s Neil,” the auburn haired boy greets. “So, by the time this video is up, my album should finally be dropping. Which is crazy. This is something I’ve been working toward for pretty much my entire life, and it’s thanks to your continued support that I actually get to live my dream. Thank you to everyone who pre-ordered my music, supported the music videos and subscribed to this channel. It means the world to me. Anyway, to celebrate I thought I’d make a Q &A, because I haven’t done one of those in a while. I’m also joined by a special guest…” _

_Neil looks at the blonde expectantly._

_“Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?” he asks._

_“They should know who I am,” the blonde replies impassively._

_Neil snorts. “How humble of you to say.”_

_“My name is literally in the title. The video is called ‘Q &A with Andrew.’ People wouldn’t have clicked on it if they didn’t know who I was.” _

_“Yeah, but you shouldn’t assume-”_

_“I’m in the most popular band in the world, you’d have to be a fucking idiot to not know who I am.”_

_“Don’t call my fans idiots.”_

_“I don’t think I did.”_

_“You just said-”_

_“I_ said _you’d have to be a fucking-”_

_The video cuts again._

_Andrew and Neil have swapped sides on the sofa, and Neil is now wearing an orange hooded sweatshirt. Andrew’s arms are crossed and he stares blankly directly into the camera._

_“I asked you guys on Tumblr and Twitter to send in your questions using the hashtag #AndreilAnswer,” Neil says. Andrew appears disgusted._

_“We’re actually trending on Twitter, which is pretty cool,” he continues. “Our first question is from @thegreenerartist on Tumblr. They want to know which instruments we can play. Thank you for the question! Uh, I play guitar, piano and the uke. I’d really like to learn drums, though. That’d be sick.”_

_“Guitar,” Andrew says. “Piano. Clarinet. Cello. Drums.”_

_“You can play the cello?” Neil asks in disbelief. Andrew shrugs._

_The video cuts, and skips to Andrew holding Neil’s phone._

_“What was your first impression of the other?” he asks monotonously._

_“You have to say their name or account username.”_

_“Why?”_

_"To acknowledge the fans.”_

_Andrew sighs and makes direct eye contact with the camera. “Maisy, thank you for this extremely thought-provoking question.”_

_“My first impression of you was that you were really genuine,” Neil says to Andrew._

_Andrew scoffs. “Bullshit.”_

_"No, I’m serious. Like, in your interviews and stuff, you were just so unapologetically yourself. And in real life, you’re exactly how you are on screen. I guess I’ve always admired that about you. You don’t put up a front.”_

_There is silence for a moment, and then Andrew says, “You didn’t make much of an impression.”_ _  
__Neil sighs and scrolls through his phone._

_After a few seconds, Andrew says, “You were physically incapable of sitting still.”_

_"Excuse me?”_

_“That was my first impression of you. You wouldn’t stop fucking moving. You’re like a ticking time bomb.”_

_Neil is still, and then nods slowly. “Yeah, okay. Valid.”_

_“@AllisonJamaica wants us to describe each other with one song lyric,” Neil reads, now holding the phone. “Huh. That’s a tough one. But probably… ‘you’re the kind of reckless that should send me running, but I kinda know that I won’t get far.’ Taylor Swift.”_

_“No shit,” Andrew mutters. He tilts slightly off screen and returns with a mug between his hands. He brings the mug to his lips and says, “You can’t run that fast.”_

_Neil laughs. “You only say that because you’ve never seen me run. I’ll have to bring you with me someday.”_

_“Looking forward to it,” Andrew says drily. “As for the song lyric… probably 'I hate every single stupid word you say' by Pink. Who's coming up with these questions? They're terrible."_

_Andrew grabs the phone from Neil's hands and begins scrolling. "Who said 'I love you' first? Neither of us. I hate him."_

_"Andrew-"_

_"Next question."_

_Neil rolls his eyes and peers over at the screen. "@Myanchorandyourcompass is wondering 'who asked who out first?' Believe it or not, it was Andrew."_

_"Biggest regret of my life."_

_"@Leloqier asks if there was ever a time we felt like leaving the industry, and what changed our minds. Good question, and yeah. This is a tough job to have. But seeing your guys' reactions and support makes everything worth it. So that's what keeps me motivated. Andrew?"_

_"If you want to be a musician," Andrew says, placing his mug out of frame. "Don't."_

_"O-okay," Neil sing-songs. "An anon asked if we have any favourite musicians, 'besides each other, of course'. Yeah! I listen to a lot of indie bands. I really like Daughter, the 1975 and The Neighbourhood."_

_"Katy Perry," Andrew dead-pans. "Beyoncé if I need to feel empowered."_

_Neil laughs, and Andrew's lips quirk upward slightly into a smile._

_"We have time for one more question," Neil says. "@Mayleaemerald asks what our favourite hobbies to do together are. Andrew, do you want to answer this one?"_

_Andrew looks directly into the camera._

_"Murder," he says._

_End of video._


	7. Chapter Seven - The Party, Part One

The whole thing was slightly ridiculous.

Neil knew that album release parties were important for networking and sales promotions, and to some degree he could even understand why Allison had felt the need to go all out on his first one - but that didn't mean that he liked it.

"What is this?" Neil could hear Allison yelling from the other room. "I told you to set up by the pool. _No,_ I told the chocolate fondue guys to set up in the living room. Well, you're just going to have to move. Who the fuck eats sushi in the living room?"

People had been coming in and out of the house all day. Caterers wandered around Matt's luxurious Beverly Hills mansion with their trays of exotic foods that Neil couldn't even name, and there were electricians and sound guys working out back on huge sound systems and colourful strobe lights. Neil had almost gone into full panic mode when the various work staff had started coming to him with their questions - he could barely keep up with what was happening, let alone give out instructions - so he'd opted to redirect them all in Allison's direction. The house was so big that he often had trouble locating her, but his best guess was the rooms with the most troubled looking workers leaving them. Matt, Neil's music producer, had been kind enough to lend them his place for the event. It was obvious that Neil's two bedroom LA apartment wasn't nearly spacious enough for the kind of party Allison planned on throwing.

"Woah," Alvarez remarked as she slipped past a group of maids carrying a life-sized Neil cardboard cut-out. She strolled over toward him and grinned. "Hey, you look just like this guy I saw back there."

"Ha-ha," Neil replied, rolling his eyes. "I can't believe she actually went through with that."

"The devil works hard, but Allison Jamaica Reynolds works harder. I'm pretty sure I saw them setting up an aquarium in the games room earlier."

"This whole thing is too much."

"Maybe," Alvarez said with a shrug. "But at least you'll be remembered. Even if it is as the guy who had a golden statue of himself in the hallway."

" _What?_ "

"Kidding," she replied cheekily. "Did you get the package?"

"Package?" Neil asked.

"Yeah, with the clothes. The ones Andrew sent you?"

"No one told me about any clothes."

"Really?" Alvarez frowned. "Okay, so I may have forgotten to pick your outfit up from Jeremy. And I also may have forgotten to order the outfit Allison wanted from him in the first place. _But,_ our resident emo came in clutch with something for you to wear tonight!"

"Did you just refer to Andrew as our 'resident emo'?"

"Who else would I be talking about? Also, shouldn't you be paying someone to keep you in the loop about these things?"

"You _are_ the person I'm paying to keep me in the loop about these things."

"Oh. Right. Anyway, Andrew sent you something fancy schmancy to wear for your first party. Thank him for me, will you?"

"Yeah, sure," Neil replied. "See you at the party later?"

"Duh," Alvarez beamed. "Laila is so hyped. This is her first celebrity event thing. She thinks it'll really help her network with some acting agents."

"I hope so," Neil said with a smile. "I'll make sure to name-drop her a couple hundred times."

"You, Neil Josten," Alvarez praised as Neil walked away, "are an angel."

He made his way up the giant marble staircase and into the hallway, stumbling into one or two wrong rooms before finding his assigned guest room. Surely enough, there was a plain white box waiting outside his door. He picked it up carefully and tucked it under one arm, using his free hand to shuffle around in his back pocket for his keycard. Once he found the card, he swiped it in front of the keycard system by the handle and once the light flickered green, swung open the door and walked over to his bed. He sat down and placed the box on the duvet before undoing the thick red ribbon tying it closed. A black suit bag was tucked neatly inside the box, a handwritten note laying on top of it.

> _Because the least you can do is wear it right._
> 
> _-A_

Neil carefully unzipped the bag and removed the hanger. To his surprise, Andrew had gifted him with an orange velvet suit and black shirt. Neil dragged a fingertip lightly over the collar of the suit and smiled to himself. So much for hating orange, huh?

He shrugged off his hoodie and sweatpants and slipped into the outfit. The shirt was tight against his chest, and a part of him wondered if Andrew had given him a smaller size on purpose. He shook the thought off almost as soon as it had arrived and slid into his custom Gucci loafers. He examined himself in the full-length mirror, taking in this new Neil. There was something about the sight that made him uneasy. 

This wasn't the Nathaniel he'd grown up hating, nor was it the boy he'd started out making YouTube song covers as. This was someone else entirely. Neil Josten, the next up-and-coming star. Neil Josten, the fastest growing musician of the decade. He was going to be big. He had to be. 

He was Neil Josten, the public's new favourite, and he could barely look himself in the eye. _You don't deserve any of this,_ the voice inside of his head echoed. _It's just a matter of time before they all find out you're a fake._ He didn't know how long he stood there, just slightly out of it, before Allison came barging into his room. 

"Neil, it's eight o'clock. People are starting to arrive, where have you been?" 

She stopped short when she noticed Neil's melancholic face in his reflection. He watched in the mirror as she approached him from behind and put her hands onto his shoulders.

"Well, don't you look lovely," she said softly, meeting his eyes in the mirror. "You know you deserve this, right? You've worked hard for this. I would know, because I've been there every step on the way."

 _Mom would hate this,_ he thought. _She would hate how Dad could find me with just a Google search. She would hate that you're here with me._

"Yeah," Neil said quietly. "I know."

"This is what we've been working towards for _years_ ," Allison beamed. "We're right on track with our ten-year plan. Record label, number one single, album release. Next up: Grammy's."

Neil didn't tell her how much worse that made him feel.

"So, you ready to get down there, Josten?" Allison asked, extending an open palm. Neil forced a grin.

"Hell yeah," he replied. 

He took her hand.

***

The party was bursting with liveliness. 

A-list celebrities, their managers and their agents, as well as anyone else that was worth knowing had secured a spot on the guest list. Loud music boomed from the newly-installed sound systems as Neil made his way down the staircase. Upon noticing his arrival, the guests erupted into whoops and supportive claps on the back. He let Allison introduce him to a bunch of important people he'd probably forget in the morning, and then went to search for Matt. He found his record producer at the pool, surrounded by desperate singers and flirty partygoers of alternating genders. Matt, however, only had eyes for one woman, and that was Danielle Wilds, his long-term girlfriend of two years. Dan was a multi-Platinum award winning singer and dancer, and was easily the most famous person at that party. Neil had only met her a couple of times, but every time he talked to her he was surprised by how humble and down-to-earth she seemed. For some reason, the woman had deemed Neil worthy of being her prodigy, and had taken him under her wing. Tonight, her dress was an extravagant cluster of material in a shiny golden hue. 

"Neil!" she gasped, waving him over. She grabbed him in a tight embrace and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I'm so so so so _so_ proud of you."

Neil grinned and wiped the stain of her dark lipstick off his cheek.

"Thanks, Dan."

"That's my man," Matt said, smiling broadly. He put his fist out, and Neil bumped it half heartedly.

"Thanks for letting us do all of this," Neil told him, spinning his index finger in a circular formation. "I really appreciate it."

"No problem at all. You know I'd never pass up anything that could contribute to your success."

Something sunk to the bottom of Neil's stomach. 

_You don't deserve friends like these. If they knew who you really were, they'd think twice before even being seen with you._

"I think I'm gonna go find Allison," Neil lied. "I heard she's been looking for me, so."

"Oh, I just saw her at the front door," Dan said. "She was busy trying to get John Legend to leave. Apparently this party is for 'relevant people only'."

"Sounds like her," Neil said, forcing a smile. "I'll catch up with you guys later."

He shimmied his way through the crowd and back into the house. He needed to get out and away from the chaos of the party. He wasn't sure why, but something felt off. He should be happy, right? This was all he had ever wanted, and for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to care about it.

He shoved open the front door, but immediately regretted it once he stepped onto the front lawn. A bunch of TMZ reporters were parked outside the house, waiting with their cameras and microphones at the ready. They all began calling his name, and before he could register what was happening a series of bright lights went off. _There are about a hundred reporters who would kill to get 'rising superstar' Neil Josten having a panic attack on camera,_ Andrew's words rang in his ear. _Hundreds of dollars await the man that can capture you at your worst._ Neil backed up, his breaths becoming shallow. This couldn't be happening. Not right now. Not when he was so close to the moment he'd been waiting for his whole life. _This little episode will span across every news tabloid in America, and your career will be down the drain in seconds. So. Calm. The. Fuck. Down._

Everything was going too quickly, too loudly, too much. He couldn't calm down. He was pretty sure he passed Taylor Swift as he clambered up the stairs, but he couldn't afford to check. 

_Down the drain in seconds… panic attack on camera… capture you at your worst_. He didn't know how to do this on his own. He needed someone to make this stop. He needed… Andrew. Neil needed to find Andrew. Where could he be? He couldn't think clearly. Andrew would probably be smoking somewhere, right? None of the bedrooms on the second floor required key cards, so Neil would be able to search them quickly. He would find Andrew. He'd make this stop. He would find Andrew. Neil flung open the door to the nearest unlocked bedroom. 

"Oh my god!" Alvarez screamed. She was hovered over Laila on the bed in just her skirt and underwear, a smudge of lipstick smeared on her cheek. "Neil! What the fuck!?"

Neil blubbered something unintelligible and backed out of the room. He ran his sweaty hands through his air and stumbled down the hallway.

"I love your music!" he heard Laila yell. "Your songs totally speak to my soul!"

He escaped into the next free room and slammed the door behind him, collapsing onto the floor. 

"Excuse me, sir?" a voice asked. "Are you alright?"

"'M sorry," he mumbled. "I'm sorry, I just… I just…"

The person came closer, and Neil scooted backward against the wall.

"Do you need anything? What can I do to help?"

"Andrew," Neil whispered to himself, his eyes flickering from the windows to the door. He couldn't stay here anymore. "Need… Andrew."

He closed his eyes, begging for the person to leave. He didn't want to have to talk to anyone. He wanted to be left alone. _Don't deserve faker don't deserve not real up-and-coming celebrity Neil Josten superstar you deserve this you don't deserve this, every step of the way down the drain in seconds in seconds in-_

"Are you done yet?" a bored voice asked.

Neil opened his eyes.

Andrew curled a firm hand around the back of Neil's neck and looked him in the eye. His cold gaze was firm and unmoving.

"You are going to snap out of this right now," he said sternly. "You're Neil Josten. And downstairs, there is a huge fucking party that I have been forced to attend. You are going to stop this nonsense and you are going to come with me. Understand?"

Neil took a deep breath. Two.

He nodded.

"How… how did you know where I was?" he managed between breaths.

"You scared some poor maid half to death," Andrew told him. "She thought you were dying. I knew that my prayers couldn't possibly have been answered so quickly."

"Thank you," Neil said quietly. "You… you help."

Andrew hummed, and Neil became acutely aware how close their faces were. Andrew's lips were just a breath from his, and if he moved any closer, they'd be kissing. 

"Don't make a habit of it," Andrew muttered, his gaze still pinned against Neil's. Neil wondered why he'd never noticed how pretty Andrew's eyes were before. They were hazel, surrounded by a flurry of lengthy blonde lashes. His under eyes were sprinkled with gold glitter, making him look like an ethereal being. Neil thought he must be a trick of the light.

"Yes or no?" Neil asked, before he quite knew what he was doing.

Something unreadable swam in Andrew's eyes, and for a moment he leaned closer. His hand ran down the velvet of Neil's suit and stopped when he found Neil's wrist. Andrew's grip was firm as he searched for Neil's pulse. Neil's heart was beating rapidly in his chest, still not quite calmed down, and it seemed that Andrew could tell, because he dropped Neil's forearm almost dejectedly. 

"No," he whispered, and if he were anyone other than Andrew Minyard, Neil might have thought he sounded resigned. 

"Now get up. We have a party to get back to."

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can we all just take a minute to ignore the crap writing and appreciate the fact that i fancast beyoncé as dan wilds


	8. Chapter Eight - The Party Part Two

There were just ten seconds left.

“Nine!” The partygoers drunkenly cheered. The Time Until Release video countdown blinked down at them from one of Matt’s Ultra-HD TV screens. People were throwing him well-meaning looks over their shoulders, their thumbs in the air and grins stuck to their mouths. Neil gave them equally as thrilled facial expressions in return, maybe a high-five if he was feeling up to it. 

“You ready for this, babe?” Allison asked him, gripping his arm intensely. She bounced on the balls of her feet animatedly and yelled the next number with the crowd.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Neil replied truthfully. The nerves that always came with the release of new music was in full bloom at the pit of his stomach. All of his songs were written from his past experiences, and this particular album was no exception. He’d poured his heart and soul into the production of it. These songs were a collection of hand-picked moments from Neil’s life, starting with his home in Baltimore and ending with him here, now - a fresh-faced eighteen year old about to start a new journey. Regardless of how listeners would interpret the music, this album was Neil’s story, fleshed out in metaphors and heart-wrenching bridges. It was paralyzing to think about what would happen if people hated it - if they hated _him_. He’d hate to admit it, but playing the media’s favourite for the past couple of months had really taken a toll on him. There was this underlying pressure to be wanted, to be heard, to be loved. He couldn’t let his fans down. 

“The fans will get it,” Allison had told him the night before, trying to soothe the after-effects of a full-blown panic. “They always do.”  
She was right, of course. Neil’s supporters always found a way to find the hidden meanings and easter eggs in his songs and music videos. They’d practically grown up with him over the years. Besides Allison, they were probably the closest thing to family he’d ever get.

“Three! Two! One!”

The timer erupted into the chorus of Runaways, and the crowd cheered and began chanting the lyrics. People had their phones out and were trying to get Neil’s reaction on camera. 

“Fuck, Neil,” Allison said tearfully. “Are you crying?”

“No,” Neil said, but when he reached for his cheeks, his fingertips came away wet.

“You’re going to make me cry,” she sobbed, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his neck. So this was it. There was no going back. _I’m sorry mom_ , he mouthed to himself. He lifted his eyes back up to the party and caught Andrew’s blank stare. He looked like a rockstar in his mesh skirt, shredded Metallica t-shirt and leather jacket. An air of coolness surrounded him, like you’d have to be someone really important for him to waste his time talking to you - and even then. A sinking feeling flamed in Neil’s chest as he recalled the events that had occurred only moments ago. He should be ashamed at how desperately he’d clung to the feeling of being known, of how quickly he’d found solace and safety in the company of LA’s most notorious rebel. He hadn’t been in the right frame of mind, and he’d almost screwed things up with Andrew and the band for good. It had only been recently that Neil had even started finding him attractive - that he’d almost get caught staring at the piercing in Andrew’s left earlobe, or his perfectly shaped mouth as he gnawed at a chipped black nail - but it had gone unsaid that he’d never act on it. They had too much riding on this fake relationship for a real one to come in and fuck everything up. Not that he wanted a relationship with Andrew. Not that Andrew would ever want a relationship with him. Not that it mattered. 

He thought about apologising again, but he doubted that Andrew would care. Andrew had just barely responded to his first thread of apologies, making the excuse that he needed to make sure that Kevin hadn’t drunk himself into a stupor. Neil looked to Kevin now, who seemed to be enjoying the party well enough, and who raised a drink in cheers when he met Neil’s gaze. 

“Hey, Alli,” Neil said, releasing his grip on Allison’s waist. “I’m gonna go make the rounds, okay?”

“What?” Allison said, lifting her head off his shoulder. Neil noticed that her eyes had gone red when she moved to wipe them. She sniffled as she stood up. “Oh, yeah. Sure. Me too.”

He pecked her cheek. 

“Thank you,” he whispered into her ear. “None of this would be happening if you hadn’t kicked down my door when I was fourteen and forced my mother into a management contract. I owe it all to you.”

“Oh, _fuck_ _you_ , Josten!” Allison sniffled, slapping his arm. She tilted her head back and began fanning her face. “My mascara’s so ruined. I did not think I’d be crying tonight.”  
“I did,” he said with a grin, pulling out the tube of mascara he’d stored in his suit pocket. He tossed the tube in her direction and she just barely caught it, shock registering on her face.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” he said with a wink, backtracking into the crowd. People chattered animatedly around him, the excitement from the night's events sending a vibrant buzz around the room.

“And I was like, we are never ever getting back together. Like, ever, you know?” he heard a woman in a red dress gabble as he passed. He swiveled to find Kevin standing by the window, champagne in hand. He wore a chiffon bow tie shirt and slacks, and a chain earring hung from his left lobe. 

“What a beautiful home,” he commented. “Very new-age chic.”

“It’s not mine,” Neil blurted out. “My place wasn’t, uh, accommodating enough.”

“For just over three hundred people?” Kevin snorted. "It's alright. Riko never wanted people in his space either."  
Anger spiked in Neil’s chest, and he wanted to argue that three hundred people was enough for a party, thank-you-fucking-much, but he bit his tongue. Andrew had requested he do this as his end of the bargain, and he wasn’t about to let Kevin’s ignorance get the better of him. He had to remind himself that Kevin was a superstar, that he’d been groomed for this life since the day he’d arrived in a bundle at the Moriyama’s residence.

Riko Moriyama was Kevin’s adoptive brother. Tetsuji Moriyama and Kayleigh Day were the most iconic pop duo of the eighties, having topped every chart worldwide and made magic in terms of album sales. When Kayleigh tragically died in a car accident when Kevin was just a child, Tetsuji had adopted him and raised him alongside Riko in the spotlight. Despite being seemingly close on television, the two had fought tooth and nail to be the better singer, constantly pitted against one another by the media. It had been a shock to the world when Riko had exposed David Wymack, world-famous record label owner, as Kevin’s biological father. It was the biggest scandal of the year, with the two’s side-by-side comparisons plastered over every magazine. Riko had done it to spite Kevin, but it had backfired in his face when suddenly every news tabloid in America wanted to cover the story. Kevin’s newest single had topped the chart at the #1 spot for three consecutive weeks.

“Look, I’m just going to cut to the chase,” Neil said. “You’ve obviously got a lot of experience in this industry. You’re easily the most popular name in music.”

The compliment caught Kevin’s attention, and he raised a brow in question.

“I’m new to all this,” Neil said, gesturing to the room around them. “I’ve never… I could really use your help. Adjusting, I mean.”

“You’ve got the talent,” Kevin told him, and Neil cursed himself for the excitement that bloomed in his chest at Kevin’s praise. “I think you could be huge one day. Bigger than me, even.”

This, Neil had not been expecting. “Seriously?”

“You write your own songs. In the music world, that means everything. Your voice is extraordinary. With some coaching, you’ll be America’s It-Boy in no time.”

“So you’ll help me?”

“Give your career to me,” Kevin told him seriously. “And I’ll make you a star.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Neil said quietly. He hadn’t quite expected Kevin to be so keen to mentor him, or to have so much faith in his abilities. 

“Keep your thanks,” Kevin told him, raising his glass to his lips. “Save it for your Grammy award acknowledgements.”

Neil caught Andrew’s eye in the crowd once again, noticing an unasked question beneath the hazel stare. The glitter had Andrew’s pale skin shimmering an iridescent gold. Neil nodded once. 

“Why?” he asked Kevin. “Why would you help me?”

“Because,” Kevin sighed in return. “I always wished I had someone to guide me through this when I was starting out.”

“But you had Riko. And Tetsuji.”

“No,” Kevin muttered, glancing out the window. The TMZ reporters remained outside, the flash of their cameras reflecting onto the glass. “No I didn’t.”

***

“ _With each passing hour_ ,” Kevin’s voice boomed from the speakers. “ _We drift closer to a new beginning_ _._ ”

The crowd screamed, their heads frantically searching the stadium for wherever Kevin’s voice was coming from. It was the opening night of their tour, starting right in the city of Los Angeles, and Andrew was going to pass out. He looked down at the thousands of people in the stands - it was a full house, as expected - from his position above the crowd. He teetered on the edge of the ledge and let fear ride him like a wave. It was refreshing, almost, to feel the sickening drop in his stomach. A change of pace, perhaps. He swung a leg over the edge, daring, teasing fate to claim him. It was a lost cause, he knew, because the harness clipped around his waist would be there to catch him. It was barely visible in the night, and he hoped that he’d remember the way it was pinching his middle as he plummeted downward. Hope. What a fragile thing. A foolish desire, as if he didn’t know for certain that the moment he was lowered into the crowd all rational thought would escape his mind. 

“Ready?” A voice asked into Andrew’s earpiece. One of the special effects men, Andrew assumed, the person that would be responsible for his life. 

" _Even as we drown in the dark, there is the knowledge that there_ _will come a time where the light shines_ _again_."

“Do try to keep me alive,” Andrew spoke, trying to regulate his shallow breaths. “I have a truly debilitating fear of heights.”

" _A time when the threads of sleep will unravel to reveal a chance to start over, to bloom into something brighter, stronger than you once were."_

The man on the other end laughed, and then Andrew was being lowered across the stadium at a frightening rate. He soared above thousands of heads, a depiction of grace. His mind went numb as he plummeted smoothly toward the stage. He was the subject of Kevin’s artistic intention, a fallen angel that was finding his way back to the light. In his glittered makeup and dark wings, he was the image of an angel of darkness. The crowd screamed his name, reaching in miserable attempts to touch his soaring figure. On the other side of the stadium, the other angel elegantly descended in a flurry of black feathers. Andrew and his brother landed on the stage in sync, a move that had been rehearsed for hours against Andrew’s will. Aaron nodded once to Andrew, sending the crowd into a series of excited shrieks. Aaron took his place behind the drums and Andrew removed his harness before slinging his guitar strap over his shoulder.

“Who’s ready to rock?” Aaron asked into the microphone.

More cheers. Andrew rolled his eyes at the line.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Andrew muttered into his microphone. The arena flooded with people yelling his name. “We’re missing a member.”

More cries. More more more. 

It made Andrew sick. He couldn’t take it - he couldn’t get enough.

A podium rose from the stage floor, Kevin standing atop it. It continued to rise until Kevin towered over them. His golden cape billowed behind him like sun rays as he looked at the crowd with an air of practiced confidence. The spotlight shone onto him, illuminating his presence as the screens played a looped video of the stars in the sky that night. He was the very picture of the sun. 

“In the absence of night,” Kevin spoke into the mic. The crowd screamed along the next line almost perfectly. Andrew found himself mouthing the words to himself in spite of it all.

“Emerges a brand new day.”

Andrew strummed the first chord.

And then it began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come sing my praises on [tumblr](https://seaaweed-brain.tumblr.com)


	9. Chapter Nine - Truth For A Truth

Neil couldn’t sleep.

He couldn’t pin-point any exact reason as to why not, but it seemed to be the result of the cultivation of clipped news headlines and to-do lists that he couldn’t quite shake from his mind. It had been almost two months since he dropped Runaways, and the aftermath of release night still hadn’t quite cleared up. In fact, it seemed that hype surrounding the album was growing rather than fading away after the initial excitement had died down. While the unwavering support from the tight knit group of fans often jokingly referred to as the “Josteners” had been expected, no one had thought that the new music would reach such a broad audience. While his EPs had been pretty successful in the past, none of them compared to the heights that this album was reaching. The numbers were still climbing, dragging not one, not two, but _three_ of his new songs on the Billboard Top 100, two of which weren’t even singles. 'Runaway' had defied all expectations by soaring to the #1 spot for eight consecutive weeks so far, a feat Neil hadn’t even dreamed of achieving. Allison seemed less than surprised, bordering on smug. She’d thrown her hat into the betting pool, going against Matt’s guess of ten weeks at the top spot and Dan’s guess of twelve with a whopping twenty-one weeks. It seemed crazy to think that his song would stay relevant for that long, but the numbers didn’t lie. He was growing more popular by the day (partially because a couple of his songs went viral on Tiktok). But Runaway wasn’t just celebrated by the teens - in fact, Rolling Stone had described him as “a breath of fresh air in the industry.”

Night and Day had no choice but to replace him as their opening act for the first few weeks of their world tour just so that Neil could do as many interviews and appearances as possible before the band took off for Europe. He was worried about having to deal with another Kathy Ferdinand issue, but now that most of his story had been told on his terms through music, interviewers were mainly focused on just that: the music. They weren’t as pushy as Kathy had been, letting him explain as much or as little as he would’ve liked about the meaning of his lyrics. Overall, everything had been… well, pretty great. A little too great, like he was constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Giving up on sleep, Neil rolled onto his side and fumbled for the cellphone beneath his pillow. He turned it on, squinting at the blindingly bright light in the darkness. _3:00_ , the digital time read as his lock screen flashed to life. He slid his finger up the screen, still not having bothered with a good password, and started scrolling through Twitter, Instagram and Tumblr. It was the usual stuff across all three platforms: fans supporting the new album, people who Neil wasn’t sure were fans or gatekeepers, and memes. Lots and lots of memes.

Once he was sure he couldn’t take staring at his own name for any longer, Neil turned off his phone and padded out into the living room. “Living room” wasn’t quite the right term to use, but it seemed strangely appropriate for the lounging area on Night and Day’s tour bus, which was more like a small house than a vehicle used for crossing state lines. Paid for in full by Kevin Day himself, the bus was bigger than any apartment Neil and his mother had stayed in growing up - and better furnished, too. Neil flicked on the light, rubbing his eyes at the sudden brightness of the place, and blinked away spots until he was sure that it was actually Andrew he saw slumped over in one of the leather armchairs. Andrew stared at him with a look that was probably meant to be of disdain, but was too bagged with lack of sleep and swollen redness that it seemed like more of a long, tired stare. There was something so un-Andrew about him that Neil glanced back in the direction of his bunk, just to be sure that this wasn’t some Andrew-Zombie hybrid sitting alone in the dark. His hair was mussed from sleep - or lack thereof - clumping to one side of his head in a tangle of blonde curls. His forehead was beaded with sweat, his t-shirt soaked through beneath his arms. 

“Uh,” Neil fumbled. “Hey.”

Andrew braced his elbows on his knees and inspected the knife between his fingers with a blank stare, probably considering whether to ignore Neil’s presence or go back to bed because of it. There was a moment of undeterred silence and then, against Neil’s judgement: “Hey.”

Andrew's voice was gruff as he acknowledged Neil’s presence with a jerk of his chin. 

“Look, we don't have to...” Neil paused, trying to find the right words. “I just needed to move around.”

Andrew studied him evenly, and then said, “I’d rather you gave me a truth.”

"What?”

It took him a second to remember the little game they’d played on the roof of Eden’s. They’d swapped truths for a night, despite Neil not being in the position to give any and Andrew’s credibility tarnished by the fact that he had been drugged out of his right mind.

"Alright," Neil said carefully. "I'm game if you are."

Andrew's question flew out almost immediately.

“Who’s Lola?”

Neil’s head snapped up then, the fear of a name he hadn’t heard in so long crawling up his arms like goosebumps.

“You talk when you sleep,” Andrew said, the tiredness in his voice giving way to annoyance.

“Oh,” Neil replied. 

He rubbed the back of his neck and cautiously took a seat on the leather sofa across from Andrew. 

“My father’s been in prison for most of my life,” Neil said tentatively. “When my mom decided to run off with me, she knew better than to call the police on his gang. Knew that my father was in contact with people on the outside that could get us killed. So we disappeared without telling anyone. Well, someone ended up narcing on him anyway, and he ended up guilty on accounts of murder and drug trafficking.”

“Just because he was gone didn’t mean that he didn’t have allies he could work through, and because he thought my mother was responsible for getting him locked up, Nathan started sending people after us.”

Taking a deep breath, he continued: “Lola was one of his associates - or something like that. She was one of the few people who actually visited him while he was locked up. Anyway, we had some… pretty bad encounters.”

Just the mention of Lola was enough to send shivers down his spine, the memory of the press of her knife pregnant enough that Neil could still feel the blade pressed to his skin. Memories of being chased down by the woman - of his mother shielding him from her strongest blows, of Mary even getting one over her during combat - trickled in the back of his mind.

“Neil.” Andrew’s voice was impatient but firm. “I’m not doing this again.”

“Sorry,” Neil said slowly, his mouth not quite moving to make the word. He tried to zone back in, blinking back the blurred version of the world he'd gotten after staring into space for too long. 

He cleared his throat. “Alright, now for yours. Why did you agree to all this?”

“You’ll have to be more specific,” Andrew replied impassively.

“Us,” Neil said. He didn’t realise the weight of the word until it fell heavy in his mouth. _Us_. “The whole fake-dating thing.”

Andrew quirked a brow. “It was my idea.”

This, Neil had not seen coming.

“What?”

Andrew plucked what was left of the drink in the glass next to him off the table and put his lips to the rim.

“There needed to be a distraction,” Andrew said, taking a sip. “From the headlines.”

And then, like a key locking into place, Neil remembered. After all the stories that had accumulated over the past few months, this was just another hat tossed into the ring of what the media considered to be breaking news. But it was there. Buried beneath the rubble and smoke of their fake relationship were the headlines that came before theirs.

“Aaron,” Neil said, finally getting it. “You did this to cover up the rumours about his drug addiction.”

Andrew dropped the glass with a _clink_ on the table. “Not a rumour.”

"Oh,” Neil replied. _Oh_. 

Just days before their “relationship” came to light, media outlets were releasing articles about Aaron’s past struggle with addiction, claiming that he’d been sighted using again at some underground nightclubs in New York. There were pictures, too. And although any image could be faked these days, they were pretty incriminating. Neil wasn’t sure whether it was his place to say anything regarding the incident, so he settled for: “You’re a good brother.”

Andrew said nothing, just leant back in his leather armchair and observed Neil with an unreadable look.

“I saw what you wrote,” Andrew said finally. His gaze flicked to the notepad that Neil had left on the coffee table. Written in scrappy handwriting was a song Neil had been working on on-and-off. He was playing with ideas he hadn't touched before, trying to find a way to express emotions he couldn't quite understand himself. He'd struggled to find the right words for so long that he'd eventually just given up on finishing it. It was a little dark compared to his other songs, a little grimy and messy and not anything he’d ever planned on letting see the light of day. “It wasn’t terrible.”  
Which was an Andrew Minyard compliment if he’d ever received one.

“Oh yeah?”

Andrew grabbed the notebook and tossed it into Neil’s lap. Neil hesitantly picked it up, pausing when he noticed an unfamiliar scrawl continuing down the rest of the page.

“You finished it,” Neil said, a little breathlessly. What Andrew wrote was good - _really_ good. It perfectly encapsulated what he’d been trying to say, even if it wasn’t in his words or from his own experience. Andrew watched with disinterest as Neil wrestled between looking at him in disbelief and going over the lyrics again.

“We should write together,” Andrew said, sounding almost bored. It sounded less like an offer and more like an idea he'd already settled on.

“Yeah,” Neil said, sliding his thumb over Andrew’s cursive. “Yeah, that would be great.”

Neil mentally checked his calendar for a time when they could get together - and came up blank. They were playing a show in Vegas the next night, followed by a meet-and-greet and three night’s worth of shows after that before they headed for their next stop. His free time slots were getting pretty tight, what with sound checks in the mornings and all the interviews Neil had going on during the afternoons. 

“I mean… I’m free right now,” Neil offered. It was at least four a.m. by now, and Kevin and Aaron would be getting up to fight over the bus shower in just a couple of hours.

“Fine,” Andrew said with a curt nod. “But I’m not interested in any of your... sappy love shit.”

“Yeah," Neil replied, his grin too wide for the absurd hour of the day. "I know.”

Andrew's voice was thick with disgust. “Stop looking at me like that."

Neil knelt over the coffee table and picked up a pen, almost knocking over Andrew's glass in the process.

“Whatever you say, babe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...so I should probably acknowledge the six month long gap between uploads.
> 
> Long story short is that I couldn't find the time or motivation to make this story a priority in my life.  
> Moving forward, I'm going to try to make this fanfic the best that it can possibly be, and that may mean longer chapters that take a little more time to write. As I improve as a writer, the quality of my work is becoming a lot more important to me, and I hope that shows in these upcoming chapters.  
> I'd also like to thank you for all your support and kind comments - they are the reason I keep pushing forward with this AU. 
> 
> anyway go follow me on tumblr @seaaweed-brain because i made a new account and now i'm lonely


End file.
